


The Knight And The Heir

by ProspitCalliope



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, Medieval A.U, in later chapters oop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProspitCalliope/pseuds/ProspitCalliope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Egbert is sick and tired of sitting in wait. It's not that he doesn't want to become king yet. <br/>Dave Strider, the Knight from the town over has come to the town to find the murderer the killed his Brother and avenge his death. </p>
<p>In a strange twist of fate, the two meet, and an unlikely friendship soon blossoms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Knight And The Heir

The sun shone down, worming its rays through various cracks and spaces in the gaps of forming clouds, the temperature ever so slowly rising. John sighed, resting his elbows on the turret’s windowsill, placing his head in his hands, his chin connecting with his palms. He hated it here. It was more of a prison than a ‘safe place.’ He could see all the villagers below, their faces alight with happiness and calm. Today was the anniversary of his father’s wedding to the queen of the town over.   
That’s right. You, John Egbert, are royalty. You’re the prince of this land. Better known as ‘The land of Wind and Shade.’ It wasn’t your choice. You didn’t want to be the heir. Heir of Breath, to be specific. Mainly because when you were born, a grave illness was spreading throughout the town, wiping out any being with breath left in it. Every single villager was on their way out, then, when the king (your father, to be exact) returned with an heir to the throne, the townspeople almost saw something to look forward to. They’ve watched you grow. From a new-born to the thirteen year old, troubled, emotional little boy you are today. It’s as if your birth wiped out the dreaded disease. And fortunately, it did. For the people of the village, anywho. But not for you. The illness passed straight from them to you. No one noticed it at first. They just thought that because you were a new-born, you would cry a lot, and you would catch fevers, but it was nothing to worry about. But it turns out… It was. It was indeed.

\--

You sit there, your sword by your side, gripping on to your wounded shoulder. As blood seeps through your shirt, you curse, glaring at the beast on the ground. It was quite a fight, you must admit. You weren’t expecting it to be quite as tough as it was. Damn thing sure made its mark on you. But hey, what’s a little sunshine without rain? You’ve earnt your noble title so far. Your name is David. David Strider; the Knight of Time. You’ve been travelling across many barren, secluded villages and wastelands. You’ve overheard from other folk that there’s a celebratory fate in a town nearby, for the newly wed King Egbert and Queen Lalonde. You heard from your late guardian; bless his soul, that he and King Egbert were close companions back before your birth. Then, the ‘thing’ happened, and the two hardly ever conversed. You bet that the king would barely even remember your dear guardian’s name, even if you mentioned his well-known title. After you watched him be ripped from limb to limb so graphically, by that viscous ‘Bec Noir’ creature, you’ve vowed to track the goddamn thing down and make him suffer just as much as your poor brother had done. You’ve sworn on it, and you don’t plan on going back on that promise. You wrap a gloved hand over your brother’s pendent that was currently hanging around your neck. You glance up at the sun, turn back to look at your shadow and calculate how much longer you’ll be walking for until you reach ‘The Land of Wind and Shade’ for the first time since your late sibling’s death. You smirk to yourself, picking up your sword again. “Onward, dear knight, onward.”

\--

You hear a soft rapt on your door, and stretch, clicking your shoulders as you do so. “Hello…?” You ask warily, pushing your glasses further up the bridge of your nose.   
“John, it’s me.” You hear your father say nervously, as if he may be interrupting something dreadfully important. You smile, walking over to the door, unlatching its many locks and pulling it open.   
“Afternoon, father!” You chirp, trying to sound up-beat and cheerful despite your disposition.

“I see you’ve been watching the villagers.”

“Mm hmm.” You mumble, staring at the floor. He knows how badly you want to join them, but you can’t. After the ‘very important’ doctor came to see you, he said to your father that you were in grave danger with your illness as it could easily spread to the villagers yet again if any of them were to come in contact with it, and that it wasn’t one that would just clear up easily by itself. So, all in all, if you survive… You’ll be very lucky. Your father didn’t tell you this himself, you were just eavesdropping on their conversation, even though you should have been asleep at the said time. It scares you to think that this tumour inside of you could possibly be the death of you.   
You shudder, turning your attention back to your guardian. “… I know I shouldn’t be asking you this…” you begin sheepishly. He gives you a ‘then why are you going to ask me it’ look, but you carry on, not wanting to keep this to yourself any longer. “But this illness… This thing inside of me… H-How… How much longer have I got left? Until… Until it kills me?” Your father looks a little taken back, and his eyes soften.   
“John…”   
“I want straight, dead answers, father. No more cushioning up the truth…” You say strictly.  
He seems to nod in acknowledgement of your new-found courage.   
“Well, the doctor said about seven to eight months.”  
You stare at him, mouth agape. You didn’t realize that time was running out so fast. There was so much that you wanted to do, so much that you wanted to see…

\--

You continue to make your way through this village’s random stoned paths, vaulting over various streams and the like. You’re about twenty minutes away from your proper destination now, and you must say, you’re actually looking forward to arriving. You need to rest, after putting all this strain on your… Well, let’s face it, entire body. You flick some strands of hair that must of escaped your hood out of your face, and readjust your eye protection. “Not much longer now…” You think to yourself.

\--

After passing out on your bed, as you did fairly regularly nowadays, you awake to see that it’s darker outside now. You rush over to your window, coughing as you do so, and you gasp. The view below is amazing. The sky is a deep, dark, silky navy blue, dusted with small glints of silver and white from the stars above. Then, to top it all off, below, there’s a warm, dusty orangey-yellow glow; hundreds of paper lanterns, all of them lit and ready to be released. You grin widely and shout out of your turret window.   
“The view from up here is outstanding! Utterly beautiful!” You giggle as a few villagers look up and point at you, smiling endearingly. You see your father and Miss Lalonde stood at the entrance of the castle, their fingers entwined. You stare down at the mesmerizing glow for a little longer, the colour bouncing back and washing over you. Your face now dimly lit with the glow of the lanterns. You listen with deep interest as your father gives his speech about his new-found romance with no other than Miss Lalonde and how proud he is of his son, and for a moment, you forget that it’s you he’s talking about for a minute or so. The villagers all applaud the said couple as they lean in for a kiss, and then, just like that, the lanterns are released; sixty to seventy little pools of light fly up into the dark, endless night sky all at once. Others float into the sea, drifting their way along the harbour and the sandy dunes; the tide gently crashing against the cliff face. Then, once, just once in your life… You make a wish, closing your eyes firmly, your two largely sized front teeth pressing deeply into your lower lip, your brow furrowing in deep hope and concentration.

When you were younger, you were told countless fairy tales by your father, and you’d giggle at how the fair maiden was always in distress, and how she’d always have to be saved by her darling Prince Charming, and whisked away from the evil clutches of the wicked, often deranged and poisonous stepmother. You have nothing against Miss Lalonde, it’s just… You hardly ever speak to her… Ever… But nonetheless, even now, you’d like your own Prince Charming. He doesn’t have to be perfect, heck; he doesn’t even have to be a prince… You just want someone other than your father there to comfort you. When the world comes crashing down on you, you just want someone there. Someone to fall back on… If only…

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo for a cliché A.U!!  
> uwu


End file.
